One Week Supply of Sharpay's Outfits
by Nameless Love
Summary: A little Sharpay centric drabble on what she'd wear on a daily basis.


**Author's Note: **Just a little Sharpay drabble. No real explanation needed.

I don't need to put a disclaimer, do I? You all know how this story goes. I don't own it, plain to see. I wouldn't be corrupting my own script and characters, you know.

**Monday**

The weak, rising sunlight slowly seeped through the semi-closed shutters of Sharpay's humble room of pale pink and baby grey. An extremely irritable Sharpay awoke to the sound of her iPhone's incessant ringtone to "Piece of Me" by Britney Spears. Her golden locks wove around and tangled in various places, giving one the effect of a giant blonde cacoon on her head. Sharpay lifted her head groggily from her goose-feathered pillow just to shut the damn phone off.

This really wasn't her day, nor any other school day for that matter. Her eyes were just about fluttered back into slumber when the door was thrown open by none other than her brother, Ryan Evans. _Just was I need. _"I believe that there is a common curtesy to fellow house-dwellers that someone should** knock **before they enter," mumbled Sharpay, throwing her rose duvet cover off her small-shouldered frame.

As expected, her day wasn't going as she had planned. Yesterday, instead of attending a church social, in which the parents _begged _for the twins to go to, the twins went off to a "study" party and got wasted. More Sharpay than Ryan. Being the logical person he was, Ryan decided not to let himself be overcome with a major hang-over the next morning. Unlike Ryan, when Sharpay took the first swig of Smirnoff, the possibility of remaining sober was zero.

Goosebumps developed on her skin as she stumbled off her four-poster bed and into her expansive marble bathroom. Hair products and accessories littered the creamy marble countertop. Automatically turning to the left to the shower, Sharpay turned the knob to the left, indicating that she wanted a nice, relaxing shower before she went into hell, otherwise known as school.

So the routine continued, the shower, the facial cleansing, etc, etc. All in a matter of exactly thirty-five minutes, she was finished with her "necessities." Her make-up was simple; her eyes were of golden bronze eyeshadow, with shimmery cream at the crease, berry lip tint and a swip of vanilla MAC lipgloss. Her skin was flawless, as usual, so no foundation or concealer. How conceited of her. Her hair was average, she guessed. Tendrels of long, natural curls cascaded and framed her face.

The trip through her walk-in closet was the best, and maybe the worst. Leggings were out, and Sharpay mentally reminded herself to throw her twelve pairs out with the garbage. Recently having a revelation, Sharpay no longer was "thinking pink," if you will. Her clothes were much more fashion forward, not to fond of "green-and-pink rhinstone studded mini dresses" anymore. The clothes were to be the best, no more of those ugly flower clips from Claire's.

She admired herself in the mirror, beyond pleased with her look today. She had a hang-over, and she still looked like a "stepped-off-the-cover-of-Vogue" model. Slowly humming the tune of "Fabulous," Sharpay ran her finger down a pretty pea-coat jacket, in the shade of chocolate brown. Brand, was what she wanted to know. Laying down a hand on her chest, Sharpay smiled. _Kate Spade. _

At last, she made it to school. Her Kate Spade jacket was over her 7 For All Mankind skinny jeans and Michael Kors white pinstripped-button up shirt. Sharpay's over-sized Chanel, rhinestone embossed sunglasses glittered against the warming winter sun's rays. And of course, her little mary-jane Christian Louboutin's clicked forcefully up the East High door's, her black motor-cycle Marc Jacobs bag slung across her shoulder. _We love our little princess. _

**After School, perhaps?**

Sharpay's clothes reeked with the "essence" of school. Staying after school just made her appearance just so much more... well, she just couldn't fathom how painful it would be to spend time at school _after _school hours. Having just parked her sharp silver SL65 AMG Mercedes in her winding driveway, Sharpay heaved a sigh, and opened the door. The cool air immediately hit her smack in the face, causing her to quickly slam the door shut and into the humble abode of her home. Like humble was the word to describe it.

The sound of the front-door slamming shut was made by no other than Sharpay herself. The rotunda echoed innocently around the house, the sound of ringing in everyone's ears. There was homework to be done, she thought. _Yeah, right. _As the day went on, her teased locks had become limp, and she was in desperate need of an eyebrow plucking. Contemplating whether she should get new highlights as well, Sharpay gracelessly walked up the stairs, opened the door to her room to find her dog, Boi, sitting patiently in his rose-colored bed.

"Who left you in her all by yourself, Boi?" cooed Sharpay, kneeling to pet his soft fur.

Boi, the dog he was, just cocked his head to the side.

Sharpay treated her dog like a human, obvious to see. Rolling her eyes, she scowled, "Fine. I don't talk to dogs anyways."

Two hours went by fast. To Sharpay, homework was picking out her dinner outfit, and maybe some real work inbetween. Maybe American Government wasn't her subject, but deciphering leather from pleather sure was. With her make-up washed off, school clothes discarded into the hamper chute, and hair up in a ponytail, it was once again time to decide what her attire would be.

All to familar with the contents of her closet, Sharpay wandered straight to the "dinner clothes." Fingering a Stella McCartney scalloped-tiered dress in cornflower, she let her towel fall to the carpet, and slipped the number on. Of course she could have gone more traditional with a pair of faded Gap jeans and a revealing American Eagle tank top, but this was Sharpay Evans. You could do nothing wrong with a Stella dress and gold Valentino sandals.

"Nice outfit, Sharp," Ryan commented when Sharpay waltzed into the kitchen.

The maid, Catherine, was quietly stirring a pot of sweet green beans. "Very lovely," Catherine spoke, a heavy English accent lacing through her words.

"Thanks guys. You two look awesome." After the summer fiasco, Sharpay realized what a bitch she really was. The bitch was still there, but much more hushed and mellow. Meaning what she said, she looked at her brother's attire to reassure herself. How charming Ryan was, with his dark Armani jeans and white Ralph Lauren polo.

Dinner was delicious, as usual. Catherine really did know how to create the perfect dinner consisting of creamy chicken tetrazzini, buttery green beans, and feta cheese, beet, and arugula salad. The Evan's were only satisfied with the best, no less.

The Evans always had a craving for dessert at the end of their meal, with a little pink champagne or beer, for the two men of the family. Catherine quickly whipped up some fresh fruit napoleons with vanilla ice cream. Being the kind people they were, Catherine also ate.

**Goodnight, Sharpay**

Feeling the pounds of saturated fat start to wander down to her thighs, Sharpay was ready to take a night walk, when her exhaustion took over. The night routine began, the brushing of teeth, contacts off, and one-hundred hair brushes.

Sharpay peeled her dress over of body and threw on a blue Cosobella chemise, ignoring her body's protest to put some warmer attire. The day was done, and no one was there to take off her pants.

And she was pleased.


End file.
